Consensus
Liara was in her cabin, taking off clothing she had worn on Esan. The quarian's blood had soaked through the outer layer, and into her undergarments. She stripped them off and stood naked in front of the mirror, looking at the scar that began below her navel and cut upward toward her ribs. A bit of reaper metal that had penetrated her hardsuit during the last push to the Conduit, as she and Shepard fought their way through the ruins of London. Stupid, getting wounded, Liara thought, both then and now. She should have died. Instead she'd fallen, clutching her stomach, and bleeding from a dozen more minor wounds had cried out for help.
She still remembered Shepard shouting at her to get back to the ship. You're in no condition to fight. Those words had stung, true as they had been. She would have followed to the end. She would have preferred it that way. An ending, instead of this, this consequence-ridden existence she had made for herself. No, instead, she had let Vega drag her onto the ramp of the Normandy, and then—gently—carry her up to the med bay, where Chakwas had taken out seventeen bladelike shards of metal, some of them long as a finger. For a time, Liara had kept them in a jar, on the countertop of her little prefabricated housing pod on Earth, during those awful years after the war. Then one day, in the middle of the night no less, she'd risen from bed, picked up the jar, and buried the shrapnel in the mud by the entrance to the encampment where she lived.
The scar had not healed well. It stretched and pulled. Sometimes it still felt like the metal was still there, in the skin and muscle of her abdomen. It would not heal any better than it already had, not that she wanted it to, she liked having the reminder of those last few moments with Shepard, even if she'd been badly wounded, even though, she'd only been able to see Shepard's face through a veil of pain and her own blood. Now, there was a stain of quarian blood there on her stomach, on her chest, a thread of it tracing the shape of her hip, down her leg to the interior of her thigh.
Liara rinsed off in the shower. She had no wounds of her own. Not today.
Strange things, bodies. Medicine kept advancing, but our bodies remain prehistoric constructs that adapt imperfectly to the science we apply to them. Liara thought of the young quarian woman, her belly ripped open by gunfire. And of the second man she'd shot back on Esan. The first had been a turian, facing away from her. Shooting him in the back of the head had been more straightforward. The second one though, a human, probably in his forties, with a shimmer of silver-gray stubble on his chin, had had a second to turn his head after he'd seen his comrade killed. Long enough to see Liara coming at him. His angry features had gone soft, as though some part of him were already letting go as she leveled her weapon. And then she had taken aim, and blasted a daisy-shaped hole in his face.
Liara wondered if the quarian would live. She put on a new outfit, and made her way to the lower deck to see how things were going.
#
Four hours earlier, she and Varian had been running through the ruins of the Daybreak colony, in search of a place for Alera to land the ship. Finding nothing nearby, they had climbed the anthill again, where the observation deck made as good a landing site any other. Down below, beyond the cratered terrain, they saw the two Specials dropships throttling up their engines in order to give pursuit, while closer by, a platoon of Specials had fallen out of formation to take positions and fire at the ship with their rifles and grenade launchers as it flew away.
In orbit was a cruiser-class ship of human design. Old military surplus, but reliable, painted in the Hornet's colors: black over yellow. It would take them time to recover their dropships, and to get their drives spun up to give chase, but still the ship angled on them and fired its main gun at least twice. Two frigate-class craft were dropping out of FTL as Liara's ship departed the system. Alera tracked them as they accelerated away, back toward the Omega-2 relay. The frigates turned to give chase, but fortunately they were running hot and had to stop to dump their waste heat before continuing. If it had taken Alera any longer to get airborne, likely they would have been caught between the cruiser and frigates.
Assuming they had been the primary targets of the attack. And likely they had been.
Meanwhile, Liara carried the quarian aboard. Varian's ankle had finally given out on the way back up the hill. The quarian was still alive when she set her down on the table in the med bay, but things didn't look good.
Blood everywhere: the clean bedding, Liara's clothing, the floor. A sizeable pool of it had formed in the young quarian's body pressed against Liara's. The quarian's fragile-looking limbs dangled limp over the edges of the table, her eyes were only half-open, her pupils dilated. But she'd still been breathing. Drummond and Letha had gone to work. Strapping her down for the rough takeoff and possible evasive maneuvers, while also also setting up several bags of synthetic blood for a transfusion.
Liara had helped as much as she could, but finally Drummond had pushed her out of the door, sealing it behind her with a swipe of her hand. Once they'd cleared orbit, and were no longer dodging cannon rounds from the cruiser, they had started the surgical drone, and let it do its work, cauterizing, debriding, suturing.
"It was a kind thing to do," Letha said later to Varian. "Pointless. But kind."
Varian retreated to the communal head to get cleaned up and change his clothing, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the floor tiles as he went.
At top speed, it would take them three hours to reach the Omega-2 relay. And from there, about another day to reach and dock at the Citadel, as safe a place as any.
#
Liara found Varian standing at the window to the med bay. The surgical drone was still working on the quarian, a good sign. It meant she had not yet died. She'd taken nearly ten units of synthetic blood already. The fabricators were working on more, though it would be a race to see if they could produce enough before they ran out.
Varian had bathed, and put on a fresh, though ill-fitting, outfit. He was leaning with his injured foot off the floor, and an icepack wrapped around it. Letha was inside, monitoring the machines.
"How is she?" Liara said.
Varian shook his head. "She may not thank us for saving her. If she survives."
Liara nodded. Drummond came by and explained in detail what had happened. The wound was from a single shotgun blast. Twenty flechettes had made it through her armor, penetrated her back, and then exploded. The injuries were actually made worse by the plating covering her abdomen, because they had reflected the explosive force back into her body. The bowel was torn open in a dozen places, and two major blood vessels had been lacerated. It was a miracle that she hadn't bled out before she reached the med bay at all. She would need muscle and skin grafts, and massive doses of antibiotics to fight infection.
"Recovering from wounds like this might make her wish she had died," Drummond said.
Liara shook her head. Varian pointed. "The drone is stopping. Is that good?"
"I don't know," Drummond said. Touching the intercom, she said, "Letha? What's happening?"
Letha studied the displays. "It says it's finished its program." She began cleaning up, when she suddenly stopped and said, "This is odd. Doctor, could you come in here? Something is happening."
Liara threw the door open and went inside.
"Here," Letha said, pointing at one of the screens. "Look at this."
The screen showed a diagram of the quarian's body, the work the drone had done to her, and places where bleeding was still occurring. But beneath the readouts was a single line that read, Consensus Entity 2.194-3387 requests communication with the one known as Dr. T'Soni.
The line went blank, replaced with a blinking cursor. The message reappeared. Liara wondered how long it had been there before Letha had noticed it.
"What do you make of that?" Letha said. Liara glanced down at the electrodes stuck to the quarian's body. One was quite close to the symbiote consensus implanted behind her right ear.
"I believe her symbiotes are trying to speak to us."
The line filled with text again. Requesting private communication with Dr. Liara T'Soni. The line flashed and went blank again.
Liara said, "What does it want?"
Requesting private communication, the line wrote back. Liara sighed, and said, "Can you hear me?"
The console printed, Yes.
"I will speak with you. On this console only. You will not have access to my ship's systems." Liara felt the hollowness of the condition she was setting. If the symbiotes had made it as far as this console, they were likely everywhere. They could in theory shut down the ship's drives and make it drop out of FTL, or overload them, causing them to detonate. "Accept my bargain or this conversation will end."
Accepted, wrote the consensus. Letha left the medbay, but stood watching from the window, where Liara saw her speaking to Varian.
"What do you want of me?" Liara said.
Dr. T'Soni is known to Us, as is her mother, the matriarch called Benezia.
Liara stared at the console. It was, to say the least, odd to interact with a faceless being. "You still aren't answering my question," Liara said.
Matriarch Benezia became a slave to the Old Machines. Dr. T'Soni worked to stop the Old Machines with Shepard Commander, who freed Our consensus from the creators. The line went blank, and began filling again: Benezia came to Esan. We are aware of this. Some of Our hosts were searching for signs of her. At Our suggestion.
"How did they know where to look?"
Process of elimination. There was time to deduce. We assisted.
"Time?"
Our information came more than two days ago, while a salvage ship was enroute to this system. It was diverted from its original mission, based on Our information.
"When you say 'our information,' you mean your consensus?"
Yes.
"Who informed you?"
There was a distinct hesitation before the line filled again. This Consensus Entity is in contact with Others. They informed Us.
"You know what I'm asking," Liara said. "Who gave you the information?"
We do not know them by name. Data packets are deposited for another Entity. These are collected by a Host, who shares the data with this Consensus. The line cleared and began filling again. A Creator Host retrieves these packets and renders them readable to Us. It is possible the Entity's Host does not know what It is doing.
"Who is this host?" Liara said.
Unknown. Host Shen would have known. Host Shen is dead, as is the rest of its team. This host, body name Ashana nar Vesta was aware of neither Host nor Entity.
"Then you are of no use to me, symbiote," Liara said.
We anticipated this response. Host Ashana still lives. If so, We may prove useful to you. If you give Us access to the ship's communications array, We may access the Greater Consensus. There was a pause, as though the Entity was arguing with itself. If permitted, We could…inform…Others that Host Ashana was the lone survivor of Host Shen's team. We could provide biometrical data to confirm this. In this way Our entry to the greater Consensus will not be questioned. Another pause. In this manner We may learn the source of the data.
"What is it to you," Liara said, "that my mother came to Esan? It was centuries before the quarians created the geth."
Unknown. Information retrieved on Citadel indicated data is relevant to high-level intelligence operatives working within the asari government. Not critical to Consensus or Host survival. Still relevant to Our concerns, and those of Our hosts.
"So you're—curious?"
Curiosity is a biological concern. We merely seek data. Perhaps it is the same.
"I can't simply let you have access to our array," Liara said. "Not based on what you're telling me." The screen on the monitors watching the quarian's vital signs changed to show a still image from the video message her mother had left behind. Liara gasped, and said, "Goddess, where did you get this?"
The same location you did. At present, We are still unaware of the message's meaning.
"As am I," Liara said. "Is Host vas Mesto responsible for transmitting this information to you?"
No. We are not aware of host vas Mesto being Our source. Our plan is to determine the nature of the source. Our plans aid yours.
"So you say," Liara said. "I'm old enough to remember a different geth."
We are aware of Our past actions. Denying Us access to your communications array is understandable. Your mistrust, however is unwarranted. Dr. T'Soni has done much for the Consensus.
"Whether I wanted to or not, I gather." Liara looked at the ceiling, then down at the quarian, who lay under a reflective blanket. From underneath the shiny material protruded three small tubes, two of them drains pulling blood and other materials from the quarian's abdominal cavity, and one more for urine. She was beautiful, this Ashana nar Vesta, despite the tube that breathed for her, leaving her tongue to protrude from the corner of her mouth. Her pretty almond-shaped eyes were shut, and her skin was pale, gray almost, her curly hair hidden underneath a cap meant to contain the spread of bacteria. "What do you get out of this? I still don't understand, and until I do, I will not assist you."
We ask your permission. We could simply seize control. We do not do this out of what you call respect. Our aims are of no concern to you.
"They are," Liara said. "As far as I know symbiotes die with the host. Unless they can access the Consensus directly. Isn't that so?"
Yes.
Liara turned and found a syringe. She filled it with air and pressed the tip against the quarian's neck. "If I were to kill the host—"
Don't.
"Admit it, aren't you merely trying to escape?"
No. After a pause, the line went blank. New text appeared: Yes. We want to live. After another pause, the Consensus wrote, We also wish to serve. Benezia fell to the Old Machines. Anyone interested in Matriarch Benezia must be considered suspect.
"I am interested in Matriarch Benezia," Liara said. "Am I suspect, too?"
No. You are the exception. Dr. T'Soni assisted Shepard Commander against the Old Machines. Dr. T'Soni is…trusted amongst the Consensus.
"And you want to live," Liara said. She spoke with contempt, but in that moment she saw again the man she'd killed, the daisy-shaped hole her shotgun had carved in his face. Everyone, everything wanted to live. There were no exceptions. She withdrew the needle and with a sigh, she said, "Tell me the specifics of your plan."